


An Expensive Lesson

by Auriana Valoria (AuriV1)



Series: The Lady Herald and Her Lion [10]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Embarrassment, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gambling, Humiliation, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 22:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11389497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuriV1/pseuds/Auriana%20Valoria
Summary: Ever since their relationship became evident to the soldiers and scouts in Skyhold, the Inquisitor and her Commander have been plagued with eavesdroppers and spies gathering outside Cullen's office doors. Tired of their antics, the two decide to do something about it, and they enlist the aid of one of Sister Nightingale's best men to lure the snoops into a trap...





	An Expensive Lesson

“…need more troops in and around the Emprise, I’m afraid. We’re having quite a bit of trouble securing the area.”

Inquisitor Verana-Kathryn Trevelyan leaned over the heavy oaken desk with Commander Cullen, analyzing reports that were spread out across its expansive polished surface. As her blue-violet eyes flicked from one scribble-filled parchment to the next, she listened intently to her military advisor’s reply:

“We have a few patrols we can reroute in that direction. The Graves have been secured, and there have been no more sightings of Red Templars in the region since you took care of…well, _eliminated_ Carroll.”

Verana glanced sideways and noticed Cullen’s distant look in the low candlelight. Straightening, she sighed and said softly, “I’m sorry, Cullen. About your friend. If there was any other way we could have solved it-”

He shook his head, hands pushing himself away from the desk. Crossing his arms, he looked down at the toes of his boots, “He wasn’t exactly a ‘friend,’ but I did know him. It is a shame he had to come to such a poor end. But I doubt there was any way to save him. No one has found one, yet. Blades of mercy are all we can provide, for now, and at least…at least his torment is finally at an end.”

He visibly swallowed and slowly turned towards the window that overlooked the bridge. Verana watched him, eyes glittering in the shadows. She brushed back a lock of raven hair from her forehead and put her hands on her hips, silent as he looked out at the jagged mountains that surrounded the fortress. She knew he was deep in thought, matters weighing heavily on his conscience, and she did not press him to speak his mind.

“How ironic,” he continued quietly, “that so many of those who wore that blazon…Hessarian’s Blade of Mercy for Andraste…can only be cured with a blade of mercy themselves. Is it fitting? Or is it a cruel twist of fate?”

Verana was quiet for a long moment before replying, “Both, I think. There are those who willingly used red lyrium to fuel their lust for power and control. But we know for a fact from various sources that there are also those who had it forced upon them…poured down their throats against their will. And for them, fate was cruel indeed.”

Cullen closed his eyes, obviously sickened, and Verana attempted to return the conversation to the issue at hand, “They’re also now forcing the red lyrium upon the villagers of the Emprise to serve as living transports to other regions of Thedas. We’ve got to end these Red Templars’ hold on the people, or the infection of it will spread faster and faster. They’re getting desperate now that we’ve routed them from the Wastes and the Graves.”

“So desperate they’re destroying local historical landmarks,” Cullen smirked, returning to the desk and pointing at one particular parchment, “I deployed our engineers to Judicael’s Crossing this morning. They should be able to repair the damage done to the bridge, soon.”

“Good,” Verana nodded, “Though…I do remember seeing dragons on the other side of that ravine. I have a feeling we’ll have to take care of them sooner or later. That will be,” she took a deep breath, “interesting, I think.”

Cullen looked sideways at her and slowly shook his head, “Verana, I _do_ wish you wouldn’t throw yourself in harm’s way _quite_ so unnecessarily.”

She grinned slyly, “I like to think I’m becoming quite good at this dragon slaying thing.” She punctuated the remark with a chuckle, and then her expression turned serious, “But no, Cullen, you remember those findings that Frederic made with the Abyssal High Dragon. What if these dragons are infected with the Blight, too? Not to mention the threat they pose to the villagers.”

He held up his hands, “I know, I know, I just…”

She smiled gently, “You worry about me. Trust me, Cullen, I don’t try to make that worry worse on purpose. I do what I must…just as I know you do.”

“I…” he started to reply, but then frowned as he glanced sideways and saw a silvery glint through the window: what he knew was the flash of a soldier’s helm.

“Andraste help me,” he shook his head with a heavy sigh, “They’re at it again.”

Verana snorted, “I’m starting to think they’re looking out for you. You know, making sure I don’t turn you into a frog or rob you of your manhood or something notoriously ‘magey’ like that.”

“Oh, Maker,” Cullen put his head in his hand, “Well, for whatever reason they’re doing it, they’re wasting time and energy in a fruitless endeavor…not to mention breaching decorum.”

The Inquisitor paused, thinking for a moment before replying in a low voice, “Perhaps if we did something that would keep them from even _wanting_ to eavesdrop ever again? But not a direct punishment, per se. Make their actions... _undesirable_ to undertake, in the future.”

Cullen’s brow rose, and he whispered his response, “And how do we achieve that?”

She smirked, the corner of her mouth pulling upwards slyly, “Humiliation does wonders. Embarrassment at their own endeavors works even better.”

Verana then snapped her fingers, a flash in her eyes, “I know just the person to talk to. Someone who’s quite familiar with these nosy ones, I think. Give me a bit and I think we can come up with a plan that will solve this spying for good.”

With that, she spun and quickly strode out of his office, and Cullen was left staring after her with a slightly confused expression, wondering what in the world she had in mind…

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Neatly sitting cross-legged upon the ramparts, Raithon savored the serenity to be had along the fortress’s battlements facing the southeast. Unlike the northern walls that were within earshot of the Herald’s Rest, or the western defenses, which rarely saw a moment’s peace because of their proximity to Skyhold’s gates, the scout had found that the southeast portion of the keep’s towering fortifications were undisturbed except for the routine guard patrols. Thankfully, those occasional guards that passed behind him knew the Dalish elf and respectfully minded the peace he often sought after there.

It was one of his days off. Raithon had already visited his precious Royal Sixteen hart, Toffee, that morning to give her a soothing brush, and Josephine had already shooed the Dalish elf from her office once today in hopes of performing her duties without too much distraction. With little else to do, he simply found a comfortable, albeit precarious, perch and savored the clear and crisp mountain air.

However, his meditative solitude was soon disturbed, intruded upon by the sound of footsteps. They did not follow the schedule of the patrols— Raithon knew he had well over an hour before the next one would come— nor did they sound like the familiar weighty footsteps of soldiers’ boots.

With a passive tone, the scout greeted over his shoulder, “Aneth ara.”

“Andaran atish’an, Raithon,” Verana replied, using the customary formal Dalish greeting. She hoped that she wasn’t disturbing him too much, and she kept a respectable distance as she then asked, “Have you a moment to talk?”

“Inquisitor,” he soon noted upon hearing her greetings, turning around to face her respectfully, his feet firmly planted upon the stone with his back to the vast chasms below. Lifting his hands plainly, Raithon remarked, “I have nothing but time at present. What do you need?”

Inclining her head to the elf, she replied, “I was hoping that you could help me with something that requires a bit of...manipulative expertise. More than a little deception and possibly a bit of mischief.” A grin spread across her face as she added, “And before you ask, no, Sera did not put me up to this.”

"I see," Raithon responded sagely, offering a knowing nod as smile crawled across his face, "You've come to the right person, then. May I ask whether this is a favor or an assignment?" His words dripping with cunning mischief, the Dalish elf was already hooked on the prospect.

 “A favor, if you will,” she clarified, moving to sit on the wall beside him. Sighing after she settled herself, she began, “How to start? It’s no big secret anymore that Cullen and I are…well… _together_. You know this. Two thirds of Thedas probably knows it by now, too.” She chuckled slightly to herself, then continued, “That doesn’t exactly bother me...either of us, I think. There was only so long we could keep it hidden, and both of us knew it. People will talk, of course. But,” she paused, “we have a bit of a problem, and one that you’ve already noticed. Anytime I go to see the commander, for whatever reason, there inevitably will be a gaggle of eavesdroppers outside the door…or _doors_ , as the case may be. And the windows.” She threw her hands in the air, shaking her head in exasperation, “It doesn’t even matter _what_ exactly we’re doing – I could just be delivering a report, and they’ll miraculously show up to get an eye and earful.”

Glanced sideways at the elf, she concluded, “We’d like an end put to it, for a myriad of reasons, yet we feel the best way isn’t to outright punish them, anymore, but make it…embarrassing for them. And the shame puts a stop to it for good. The only question is…how exactly to do that?”

Listening intently throughout the Inquisitor’s explanation, Raithon maintained a straight face despite comedic predicament she and the commander hoped to resolve. With a contemplative expression gracing his countenance, he soon inquired lightheartedly, “I won’t be on the receiving end of this once the trap is set, will I? I freely admit I was a fellow instigator, after all.”

After her half-chuckled “No,” he mirrored her smile and fell silent, thinking for a moment. In all seriousness, he understood why the couple would want the prying onlookers of the Inquisition to give them peace. Recently, Raithon himself had chosen not to antagonize the pair as often and participated less in the said prying, notably at Josephine’s behest. While his relationship with the Ambassador gave him some insight on the recipient’s view on this sort of derisive gossip, he could only imagine the severity of which when it was the Inquisitor herself and her own commander under scrutiny.

The scout finally took a deep breath of the fresh air and remarked honestly, “I haven’t invented such a scheme since my joining the Inquisition, but I’m certain it is possible.”

Verana laughed lightly, “Leliana speaks highly of your skills in reconnaissance and subterfuge. I’m certain that we can come up with _something_ that will work.”

Pausing, she looked down at the courtyard ground far below and sighed again, heavily. After thinking in silence for several moments, she mused aloud, “They want to see something outrageous, I’m sure. Something to gossip and joke about in the barracks. I’m afraid we’ve continuously disappointed them, though. They must be getting quite desperate for a show at this point.”

“Then that’s your bait. They want a show, so give them one,” Raithon replied as if his suggestion was the obvious course of action, “The question is, how will you spin what they see into something you can exploit to your advantage?”

Verana’s eyes widened at the prospect of actually giving the voyeurs what they wanted to see – most certainly some sort of passionate display. She could feel her cheeks reddening as all sorts of visions flashed through her head, “I…well, ah. Hmm. I’m…I’m not sure, really…”

But after a few minutes of mulling over Raithon’s proposal, the Inquisitor began to formulate ideas of her own. At last, her brow furrowed as she looked back up at the elf, “We can make them _think_ they’re seeing it…but what if they don’t actually see anything at all? The room is dark, that glass is thick and distorts a bit, it wouldn’t be difficult at all to merely _suggest_ a scene, and in their eagerness, they will surely jump to conclusions…”

Nodding in approval as the Inquisitor began to brood schemes of her own, a mischievous glint soon sparked in Raithon’s gaze as she portrayed the scene she had in mind, a harmless display that would fool any unsuspecting witness.

A grin spreading across Verana’s face, she then asked, “Raithon, are you a betting man?”

He tilted his head oddly upon hearing her question, but the guilty grin splayed across his features wordlessly answered her question. “Only when I win,” he confessed shamelessly.

Her own smile widened, “Well…you will win this one, for sure. How about this – you gather those so interested in seeing something, suggesting that you know things are becoming…more _intense_ between myself and Cullen. Entice them into hiding outside the door to be witness to it. Be sure to give us a signal, and we can begin the illusion. Then start taking bets on how far we’ll go. You, of course, bet that we won’t actually do anything at all once you’ve gathered an interested party - such is luck and all that. But do it in such a way that the others will think contrarily, arguing with you. Force the wager so high, they risk all their coin. All of it.”

She chuckled as she continued, “Let them get enough they can’t take their eyes away, then give us another signal and open the door. We’ll show them it was a trap all along, and all their coin is forfeit, along with their dignity.” Her eyes glittered with a rare gleam of mischief, “Your reward? Their money is yours to keep.”

The promise of such humility and coin brightened his already intrigued perspective of Verana’s plot, and the scout soon nodded eagerly in agreement. This would surely be a spectacle to behold, and a lucrative opportunity to boot. “I dare say this might earn me enough profit to justify retiring early,” he teased with a satisfied grin, side glancing at the Inquisitor with that look of his – the very one that once drove the commander up a wall whenever an affectionate moment between him and the Inquisitor was mortifyingly betrayed by the Dalish elf.

Verana grinned, “Don’t want to retire too early, now…I might need your expertise with some dragons in the near future.” She winked, and then added, “All right. I’ll go to Cullen and tell him what we’ve thought of. Hopefully, I can convince him to go along with it.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen swore, pacing back and forth as he rubbed his neck self-consciously, “The things I do for you…”

“Oh, come now,” Verana chided merrily, “You can’t say you don’t want to see these snoopers caught red-handed, deprived of all their coin, and sent back to the barracks with their tails between their legs. And besides…you can’t back out now.”

“Yes, but,” he paused, giving her a look of utter bafflement, “I obviously don’t have any experience pretending… _things_ …that people apparently want to see…” his words began to come out haltingly, “me…do…with uh, you…”

She laughed aloud, “Just take a cue from those horrible romances Cassandra reads. The covers alone should tell you something.”

He swallowed, his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning pink, “Andraste help me…”

“Oh, Cullen,” Verana shook her head, “It’s not going to be _that_ bad.”

“It’s going to be terrible…I’m going to look like an idiot.”

She got up from her chair, strode over to him, and put her hands on his shoulders to still him, “We’re going to look like idiots together, and we’re going to have fun while we’re doing it. And then we’re going to laugh while those snoopers run away like little girls.”

In the meantime, the devilish Dalish elf stood casually outside the glass windows, peering into the private sanctum in which the Inquisitor plotted excitedly with her apprehensive commander, an almost sinister grin splayed across his countenance. With his lingering presence within view of the powerful couple, Raithon drew in other soldiers and scouts who knew him to be a bloodhound when it came to finding delicious secrets to make known. He had been at the forefront of many eavesdropping and spying crowds, so they assumed this instance would be no different.

That was their mistake, and Raithon would profit handsomely from it.

“Oy there, Raithon,” one scout hissed as he jogged forward and knelt near the elf, “You got somethin’ this time?”

“Yes. Look through there,” He replied, dipping his head in the direction of the windows where the close silhouettes of Verana and Cullen could vaguely be seen. His grin unwavering, he gave a low whistle before informing his comrade, “Looks like the Dread Wolf has struck, and mischief is afoot. Gather the rest.”

The scout peered through the window, his eyes widening, and then chortled, “It’s about bloody time…Commander’s been extra short-tempered lately. We’ve all been thinkin’ he needs to get-”

“Ey, _shut it_ and move!” a soldier whispered urgently, “They’re gonna’ miss it!”

“I’m movin’!” the scout protested before scurrying off as fast as his feet could carry him.

Shaking his head softly, Raithon couldn’t believe how simple this was going to be. Nevertheless, he never let his act slip as he offhandedly remarked to the fellow onlookers, “I wonder how far this may go.”

He glanced up towards the window with clear though indecipherable intent, his focused attention following the movements of the Commander and Inquisitor inside...

Within, Verana heard the soft whistle through the door and murmured with a wink, “That’s it…show time.”

“Let’s get this over with, then,” he answered with no small amount of annoyance in his tone, suddenly jerking her closer to him and wrapping his arms around her, his face slightly beside hers. She had to stifle a surprised yelp and then a snort; their performance was going to be utterly hilarious, and it was going to take all their strength not to break the act. This became even more evident as he pressed his cheek to hers and they pretended to passionately kiss, their heads twisting theatrically. Verana could see the corner of Cullen’s mouth twitching and could hear a soft chuckle bubble in his throat, and she found her own lips parting into an irrepressible grin; she could only wonder what he was thinking…

In truth, Cullen could only hope he was creating the intended effect. He had mixed feelings about this act; part of him knew it was an exceedingly mischievous – and undoubtedly humorous – way of tricking the poor sods outside to pay attention long enough to lose all their coin. Yet, another part of him did not want to make a mockery of his relationship with Verana. Despite it all being a ruse, and both of them having agreed to it beforehand, he didn’t want to cheapen any future interactions they might have together…

Back outside, a handful more soldiers and scouts came running, one of them whispering, “What is it, Raithon, what’s going on?”

“As he fearlessly pulled the Herald of Andraste into his embrace, she could only succumb to the powerful arms that enveloped her...” Raithon narrated rather eloquently, stepping aside for the others to see the two shadows become one. “This beats the nonsense Varric writes any day of the week, right boys?”

The spectators immediately scrambled to the window, nearly trampling each other as they pushed and squirmed to try to get a good view while remaining unseen by the pair inside.

“Maker’s breath, they never did this when I was watching!”

“You knew it was coming.”

“I didn’t…he was a bloody _Templar_ , I thought the lyrium might have-”

“ _Shush_ , they’ll _hear_ you!”

Inside, Verana dramatically lifted both hands in a gesture that suggested raking through Cullen’s hair, bending backwards and pulling him with her. His grip tightened as he hissed, “Andraste preserve me, this is too-”

“Oh come now, you like it and you know it.”

“That’s…not exactly the best choice of words…”

And indeed it wasn’t. “Like” couldn’t begin to properly describe what he felt – a torrent of mixed emotions coursing through him. He didn’t hate what he was doing; on the contrary, he was more than placated having her close to him. But something about it felt unsatisfactory. The reality that it was all for show conflicted with a deep, nagging desire for…what?

Watching the gathered onlookers with no small degree of amusement, the Dalish elf soon ushered a soft, airy whistle in admiration before clasping his hands together, a mischievous expression settled on his face. It was time to make some money.

“Who feels up for a bit of sport, eh?” Raithon asked his compatriots before taking a seat on a nearby tree stump and retrieving charcoal and parchment from his belongings, “Who’s confident enough to wager what condition our Inquisition’s highest leadership will be upon exiting that room—if they do?”

One of the soldiers chuckled, “Ten coppers the desk gets involved.”

“Twenty the coat comes off!”

“Oy, they’re not gonna do that!” another protested, “Honestly, they’re too ‘igh’n’mighty, you know?”

A scout poked the dissenter in the ribs, “Come on, Landsen, you can tell they’re not gonna just walk out like nothin’ happened at all…not with- _Maker’s balls_!”

It was at that moment that Verana locked her arms firmly around Cullen’s shoulders and jumped up, throwing her legs around his waist. The commander was forced to suddenly loop his own arms under her thighs to keep her from slipping, and he found himself fighting to keep from laughing aloud at her antics. His mirth at her exaggerated behavior, however, contrasted greatly with all the other emotions that were tumbling about in his mind, most of them verging on the serious, in more ways than one. Yet he shoved these sentiments aside to continue his performance, unwilling to let the illusion fall…

The wonderful mayhem broadened the grin gracing Raithon’s countenance as he swiftly kept track of the bets while trying not to seem too suspicious. “Only copper? You all aren’t very confident. Ten silver that mane of Cullen’s survives untouched,” The scout antagonized his comrades, arching a brow when they exclaimed at the sight of Verana jumping into Cullen’s grasp.

“This is going somewhere, but where that is will be something worth gambling on,” Raithon chuckled, side glancing at his fellows and asking, “Someone care to spare a helmet to hold the wagers?”

“Wha-?” a scout hissed incredulously, “You can’t be serious! Are you even _seeing_ -”

“Fifteen silver the Herald’s outfit’s gonna need repairs by the end o’ this,” one soldier said indignantly, removing his helmet for the elf to use.

“Farwel, are you an _idiot_?!”

He glanced through the window and raised his brows, “I don’t _think_ so…”

Within, Cullen had buried his face in Verana’s shoulder to stifle the laughter that was threatening to burst forth from him. This pretense was getting utterly ridiculous. “Ver-Verana,” he shook as he whispered, “I don’t know how long I can keep this up without…”

“But the fun’s just barely started!” she teased, “Now come on, we need more drama.”

“Maker help me…”

He looked up at her and noticed she, too, was pressing her lips together to keep from laughing, knowing that the gaggle outside had to be thinking marvelous things by now. Humoring her as she put her forehead to his, he pretended to stumble backwards into the bookcase before turning and purposefully knocking into the desk with some force, making sure to hit it hard enough to audibly rattle a few glass pieces on the surface.

“Thank you,” Raithon purred coolly when a helmet was offered, grinning as it steadily began to fill with copper and silver. However, a noticeable silence suddenly settled over the crowd when they heard the rattles and crashes inside, and the elf ushered an astonished whistle from the sound of the couple’s theatrical antics. Returning his attention to his fellow gamblers, Raithon said with a purposefully uncertain tone, “Who believes it is wise risking a gold piece on them actually leaving that room before dusk? No matter.” Taking a deep breath with a concealed grin, the Dalish elf flipped a glimmering gold coin into the helmet. Goading the others into such overconfident gambles made him tense with suppressed laughter, and Raithon had a feeling the Inquisitor and the commander were having an even more hilarious time.

“Oh, _that’s_ it!”

The whole gaggle tossed their own gold coins into the helm, thankful that the padding on the inside muffled the noise.

Meanwhile, Verana stifled giggles as she said, “This…makes me wonder…how anyone takes those rotten books seriously…”

“Maker only knows,” Cullen replied, “Now hush and keep acting.” He suddenly pushed her up against the wall, so abruptly she had to choke down another surprised yelp. In truth, his actions surprised even him, and he wondered if the end result of the trap was really the only thing driving him…

“And here I thought you thought this was ridiculous,” her eyes widened a little.

“I do,” he answered, a smirk tugging at his lips, “But I think I’m actually starting to enjoy it, regardless.”

Yes, he was enjoying this, and a strange and profound way…

With an intentionally daunted look focused towards the weighty riches filling the helm, Raithon only remained silent and feigned a nervous tic as he tapped his piece of charcoal upon the parchment laden with names and bets. This plan was progressing easily, however, and the elf was eager to see the mortified looks of the soldiers and scouts once they realized how much they were destined to lose.

When the shadows of the Inquisitor and commander began to get lost in the back recesses of the office, one of the soldiers took the last handful of coppers from his purse and tossed them into the helmet, “Bettin’ it all…they ain’t comin’ out ‘till dawn.”

There was a chorus of chuckles, whispered “Ayes,” and emphatic nods as the rest couldn’t deny what their eyes were telling them. So confident were they in their assessment of the situation that the rest of them all went all in as well, the helm brimming with coin by the time they had finished dumping their purses’ contents into it.

“Such bold fearlessness the Inquisition’s troops should be known for,” Raithon contemplated aloud with a questioning grin, shaking his head in dismay of how much coin now occupied the helm. Boasting a considerable weight, its contents glittered like treasure, ruefully earned and ruthlessly taken.

The Dalish elf then cast his exploring gaze towards the window and grinned even more when he failed to see the couple inside who had strayed from public view. “Time for the moment of truth, eh gentlemen?”

The scout nearest to the elf glanced at him with furrowed brow, “Wait, what?”

Raithon’s grin grew sinister as he replied, “Feast your eyes and watch that confidence burn.” With a shrill whistle that pierced the air like an arrow, the elf turned his attention to the heavy oaken door. “Humility is a valuable lesson, friends, and an expensive one,” he chided his compatriots, taking a silver coin and tossing it to the one other person who had the intuition to bet that the Inquisitor and her significant other would in fact emerge...

Both Cullen and Verana sprang apart at Raithon’s signal, straightening their clothing, smoothing stray hair, and preparing to unleash their trap on the foolish snoopers. At that moment, the door opened in the midst of the hissing protests of the soldiers, whose eyes were wide as saucers when the elf pushed it agape. The eavesdroppers still crouched there, halfway between door and window, their heads hanging sideways to see the crossed arms and stern faces of the pair within.

One of the soldiers sprang to his feet, accosting Raithon, “Oy, you knew all along!” Then, he glanced to the leaders in the office, “ _They_ …knew…oh Maker…”

They looked their leaders up and down as they slowly rose from their crouched positions. Cullen and Verana’s clothing relatively straight and intact…hair still neat. The latter had made a point of wearing a dark wine lipstick, and there was no trace of it to be found on the commander’s face.

“We’ve been tricked!”

“We’re _dead_ …”

For the longest time, there was an uncomfortable silence as neither leaders nor subordinates said a single word.

“Oy, Commander!” a soldier protested at last, voice wavering and eyes wide as he glanced back and forth between Cullen and Raithon, “We…we don’t _really_ owe the elf all that money, do we? He doesn’t get to keep it, does he?”

Cullen took a step forward, his gaze sharp, “Well…if he doesn’t, then I will have to come up with some other suitable punishment. Would you rather I do that?”

“P-punishment?” another stuttered, disbelief evident in his tone.

Verana scowled, “You didn’t think you could get away with spying on the Commander and the Inquisitor indefinitely, did you? Obviously, your latrine duty didn’t sink in the first time we caught you.”

“So perhaps doing without your hard-earned wages will have a deeper impact,” Cullen added. “Unless,” he turned to Verana with a raised brow, “You have a better idea, Inquisitor?”

She gave him a deadpan look in response, “There’s always the dungeon.”

“Thumb screws?”

“Rack.”

“Then drawing and quartering?”

“Of course.”

With looks of horror writ on their faces, the soldiers and scouts spun on their heels and sprinted across the battlements as fast as their legs could carry them, abandoning the helmful of money without a second thought.

At that, Verana and Cullen shared glances and burst into belly-aching laughter. Doubling over, they laughed and laughed until tears sprang in their eyes and they were pounding the desk, unable to look at each other or Raithon without laughing even harder. Their act was a success; the poor sods who had lost their wages would be telling tales of this for weeks, if not months. And it would most certainly be a deterrent for any others who thought it would be fun to spy on the commander and Inquisitor at work…

Whistling in sheer awe of the magic he had just witnessed, Raithon shook his head and chuckled, “A satisfying conclusion to this enterprise, I’d say. With such a generous sum of profit to his name, I believe this elf’s days of prying unnecessarily are done.” To finish his point, the Dalish elf contently patted the weighted helm in his grasp, a victorious grin on his face. With that, he then turned on his heel and closed the office door behind him, more than pleased with the outcome of it all and eager to stow his earnings someplace safe.

It was a few breaths before either Cullen or Verana recovered enough to stand up straight; when at last they did, Cullen wiped a few tears from his face with his thumb and said haltingly, “I…needed that.”

Verana couldn’t even chuckle without her stomach hurting, and she winced as she replied, “So did I.”

After a few moments, she glanced at him with a sideways look, “So…you said you were actually starting to enjoy that. And after being so hesitant to start with. What changed?”

He gave her a mysterious smile as he drew nearer, his voice low, “I had _you_ in my arms, even if it was all in fun. That alone, _strangely_ and, dare I say, _magically_ transformed the whole affair into something not only bearable but…rather pleasant.” She saw him swallow as he lifted a gloved hand to her cheek, “I almost wish…”

She gave him a sly grin, “That we were weren’t acting?”

He chuckled, answering coyly, “Perhaps…”

She slipped her arms around his neck as he curled his own about her waist, and she raised a brow, “I’m still never going to take those awful books seriously.”

“Neither am I,” he replied, leaning close and resting his forehead against hers, “But you… _you_ I take _very_ seriously…”

Her smile turned tender as she met his eyes, “I know you do. And I, you.”

Cradling the back of his head in her hands, she pulled him closer and kissed him tenderly for several long moments before adding softly, “And despite the entertaining nature of our trap, I was serious about shaming our spectators…those who would treat our love like a Grand Tourney event.” Smiling again, she gently wiped a thumb across his mouth to make sure no lipstick was left behind.

He chuckled, kissing her brow, “I think you taught them an expensive lesson.”

She grinned, “One they won’t easily forget, I’m sure.”


End file.
